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The year is almost over. 
And I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that notion. 
It’s just another trip around the Sun for some semi self-aware 
monkeys that can’t get a grip on what it means to be, “human”. 
I found myself in a cloud of vapor and hastily circling thoughts
in the heart of the Witching hour. 
Not about resolutions- inevitably broken promises to myself that only lead to more regret. 
No hope for 2019, nor dread for the recurring storm that is life. 
I thought about galaxies colliding in-between lovers on a different plane of existence; I wondered about what they would think- feel if they perceived its presence. Would it make them feel small? Ruin their mood? 
Or would they feel more connected than ever, and finally feel love the way all stardust should? 
I thought about the eternal push and pull of it all, and I could hear the waves at the Gulf from my bedroom. 30 miles instantly becoming a 
diminutive distance in the face of boundlessness. 
Rain began to delicately tap at my window as my eyes became small wishing wells
full of bloodshot wonder. I could see flowers blooming at the speed of light in distant realms where time worked in ways we don’t understand yet. 
I felt the black hole that will be in this place someday form, just for a moment
in my core. And a terrible rush fled through me. Lightning struck my bones. 
I was empty. Starving. And yet, full of infinite power and determination. 
And as I began to collapse, I gasped. Shuttering out energy and becoming a gift-giving eruption that would last longer than any sentient being’s ability
to ponder it. At least, at any one time, on a single plane. 
Revolutions, and revolutions. Round and round, we go. 
All is one, one is all. Infinite distance- compressed together until
combustion. Such a beautiful, painful, and timeless dance. 
As my eyelids become shooting stars, driving down toward the horizon 
I’ve been arduously trying to quantify, I give in to my body’s limitations
and let sleep guide me home. Only to wake up to another resounding pirouette,
met by our closest star. Wishing, already that I could see its smile against the Moon. 
-James Kelley 2018
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